


Powercuts

by Sivvus



Series: Empowered [2]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, The Immortals - Tamora Pierce, The Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Betrayal, Brother-Sister Relationships, Childhood, Children, Civil War, Coming of Age, Corruption, Curses, F/M, Immortality, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Resistance, child perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sivvus/pseuds/Sivvus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern-day Tortall: a bleak dystopia, tormented by Immortal attacks and teetering on the brink of revolution. A young girl strikes up an odd friendship with a woman who can talk to animals. Leanne's fascination soon sours when she suspects the woman might be to blame for the arrival of the deadly Immortals in her city. D/N, Fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to 'The Autumn Assignment'

Afterwards, Leanne said, she couldn't remember anything at all. Not the sudden shriek, not the frozen way she'd stared up at the silver-clawed creature, too scared even to run away from her own death, not anything.

"Nonsense," Said her brother, pushing a cup of hot chocolate into her hands with his usual abrupt gentleness. "You must remember something."

No, Leanne insisted. Nothing. Not a single thing. And then she shut her mouth tightly and refused to say another word.

888

It is strange how one event can start off a whole chain, like the first raindrop in a storm. Often they're so small a blink would make them vanish, but sometimes they come screaming into our lives on silver wings, and when they attack you they're quite hard to ignore!

Not that the children were expecting anything to happen to them on that day. It seemed perfectly normal. The park was nearly empty, because even seven years after the monsters had first appeared, people still hadn't remembered how to feel safe outside. Daniel had said it was safe enough for them to play when there were grownups around, what with the overhanging barbed wires stopping flyers and the thick fences around the city warning away the prowlers. The countryside might be dangerous, he said, but we live in the city, and only a few immortals slip through the soldiers' defences.

Leanne wasn't sure- a few was a lot less reassuring than none, but she trusted her big brother. He could remember the time before the immortals returned, after all. He knew how to survive. She had simply grown up in the city, and only knew she was surviving because she read about the people who weren't in the newspapers.

On that day, her little ward was being horribly energetic. She knew she wasn't supposed to take him outside on her own, but she also knew she would be blamed for every knocked-over vase and every dent in the furniture. At a loose end, she decided a half-hour run around the park would probably make him tired enough to sit and play quietly for the afternoon. So she took Tallis to the park, almost having to run after him when he took off at high speed.

For a five-year-old he was unusually small, and she usually spent more time picking him up and drying his tears when he fell over than anything else. Her brother said she was a good babysitter, but she didn't think that was right. She spent so much time in a blind panic, worrying that her nephew would fall and break his head open!

Tallis laughed in his odd high voice and headed straight for the swings, and then started sulking when they wouldn't stay still enough in the wind for him to climb on without help. Leanne held the chain still and he kicked off so quickly she had to jump back to stop the swing crashing back into her. The little pest laughed again when she landed in a puddle and mud coursed up her clothes. She blinked at the stains with tears in her eyes. Sometimes life just wasn't fair!

She sat on the second swing sulkily, watching her feet waving forwards, back, forwards, back, perfectly in time with the excited whooping of the little pest. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the other feet, the grownup feet as they walked past the enclosed play-park. Red shoes, black shoes, trainers, sandals. Her shoes had been black too, her shiny school shoes, until they were covered in mud. Now they were brown. Boring brown feet in boring brown shoes.

Afterwards she wondered if her boredom had somehow called the creature. Tallis saw it before she did. Face upturned to the sky on the high point of the swing, his scream of joy turned into a shriek of terror. Leanne didn't hear the difference until other screams joined it, grownup screams in deeper voices. The feet ran away and she looked up, just in time for the sunlight to reflect off the sharp silver claws into her eyes and blind her.

Tallis screamed again, unable to stop the swing from reeling in and out of the hurrock's path, his feet straining to reach the ground. In desperation he jumped from the swing, landing badly and hurting his knee. Normally this would have him curled up on the ground sobbing, but today he hardly noticed the pain. He took off at a run towards the nearest tree, wailing, and the creature's head snapped around towards the running prey.

Leanne noticed two things, then. The first was that the creature was tangled in one of the overhanging wires, the sharp barbs cutting into one hind leg and drawing blood. The hurrock lunged towards Tallis but the wire caught it painfully, and it turned around to bite at it with sharp silver teeth.

The second thing she noticed was that she couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She could only stare at the silver wire and the silver claws and the writhing monster in terror, knowing that at any moment it would free itself and attack, and that even if she could run she would never be fast enough, or go far enough away, to be safe. She stared at the silver wire and couldn't remember a single thing they'd learned in school about Monster Danger, or a single spell she'd learned which might fight it off.

The grownups had all run away by now. The world was full only of the sounds of gnashing teeth and flapping wings. Whenever the hurrock was too close to the ground it tore up great strips of grass with its claws, like a hot knife going through soft butter.

The loop of wire broke with a sound like a tinny piano string being struck, and the hurrock was free. It turned its head slowly, deliberately, and stared at her.

Leanne stared back. Her throat burned, it was so dry, and she couldn't bring herself to swallow the knife-blade of fear that was choking her.

"Must you attack children?" A soft voice asked, iron in its accusation. The hurrock reared back and stared around, nostrils flaring as it looked for the speaker. Leanne breathed out in a rush, and then realised she could move again. She collapsed from the swing, shaking too much to run, and the creature darted closer to her.

"No." She didn't see what the woman did, but the creature suddenly keened and spun away again. Its manic eyes rolled back in its head and this time it stayed further away, still sniffing the air suspiciously. Its eyes narrowed; it focused on a copse of trees nearby, but by the time it had found its prey another arrow was hurtling towards it. This one buried itself in its fore shoulder, and now Leanne could see the first arrow buried in its hind knee. For some reason the sight made Leanne want to laugh- it was so unusual to see arrows! It was like being in a school play.

"The next one will be in your head. I don't miss. Leave." The soft voice never wavered, never rose, but the immortal keened again and this time took wing, the trees shaking as it beat against the breeze. Leanne stared after it, and her eyes kept spinning, rising higher and higher and drifting into the empty white-blue of the sky as she passed out.

888

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times. This wasn't her room! There were no soft toys, no photos on the walls, and no duck-egg blue wallpaper. This wasn't even a bed, but a sofa, protected by a thick green blanket made of felted wool. Leanne ran her hand over it a few times, her fingers finding the odd strand of loose animal fur in the wool. She didn't have a pet. She didn't know anyone who did, what with the food ration. Whose house was this?

Looking around gave her no clues either. It was a crowded room, but comfortable. The windows were small, letting in enough sunlight to let her see the over-full bookshelves and the happy chaos of a work-desk. Daniel and Katy's room looked like this, Leanne thought, and the idea made her relax. A second table held fewer papers, but more interesting things. She wandered over to it, touching the pestle and mortar and tipping up the jars to the light, staring at the leaves and odd powders in them.

"They're medicines." Leanne recognised the soft voice, and didn't whirl around as quickly as she might have done, but she still jumped. The woman smiled apologetically at her surprise, and then walked over to take the jar gently from the girl's hand. "This is turmeric. If you add it to milk and some honey it will help ease a cough. I don't think you need it!"

"Are you a doctor?" Leanne asked, her voice faint. The woman shook her head, and then looked thoughtful, grey eyes flicking sideways as she considered.

"Not really. I suppose you would call me a vet."

"That explains the pet hair!" The girl realised she'd spoken out loud and blushed, but the vet didn't seem to mind. She raised an eyebrow.

"You noticed that? Very observant of you. Or perhaps we should clean more often!" She looked at the chaos of paper on the second desk with some amusement and put the jar down carefully on her own table, treating the old jam jar as if glass was something precious. "You fainted, Leanne, and I didn't know where you lived, and your brother needed help too, so I brought you home. I hope you don't mind."

"Tallis!" Leanne clapped a hand to her forehead, feeling the faintness flooding back. "The monster… is he, is he…?"

"He's fine! He hurt his leg, but I bandaged it up for him." The woman spoke quickly, seriously, and then the wry amusement returned. "You call your brother 'the monster'?"

"No." Leanne looked scornful. "I meant the hurrock, lady! It attacked us."

"Ah." The woman smiled briefly and then turned away, gesturing for Leanne to follow her. The girl did, wondering if this was truly the woman who had fought the hurrock away. Maybe someone else did it and she just spoke to it. She'd never heard of a ninja vet before.

The woman led her through to the kitchen and fetched her a glass of milk, staying tactfully silent while Leanne checked on Tallis. The little boy was fast asleep in a huge chair that sat near the stove, one leg neatly bandaged, one hand clutching a sleeping cat tightly as if it were a teddy bear. Every so often the cat would open one lazy eye and purr. Leanne dipped her fingertip in the creamy milk and held it out to the cat, smiling when it licked it off with a papery tongue and then dozed off again.

"She's called Selki." The vet said. Leanne nodded solemnly and went to sit at the kitchen table, sipping the milk before asking her own question.

"What's your name?"

Did Leanne imagine it, or did the woman pause before she answered? "I'm Deanna," she said, with a smile which made her hesitation seem less ominous. Leanne had been expecting Mrs. Somethinorother, so being told a first name made her smile back and ask what Deanna's messy boyfriend's name was.

This time the corners of Deanna's eyes turned up in genuine amusement. "I think I'm a little old to be living with a boyfriend! I have a husband, though. His name is Aaron."

"How old are you?" Leanne asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth as if the question was truly impertinent. Deanna didn't seem to mind, although the question made some of the smile disappear from her eyes. The eyes were grey and unlined, and apart from the white streak there was no fading in her curly brown hair. Her answer was flippant as she busied herself finding a blanket for Tal.

"Oh, I'm ancient."

Leanne accepted that answer gravely, sipping her milk. Deanna sat down at the opposite side of the table and rested her chin in her hands, bright eyes kind but serious. "Why were you on your own?" She asked gently. Leanne looked down at her hands, swallowing back her guilt, and explained about the vases, and Tallis's mission to destroy everything, and…

"Yes, yes, but that's not what I meant." The woman interrupted, "I meant, why were you alone in the first place? You look about eight. Where are your parents?"

"My mummy's dead." Leanne said automatically, and was surprised that the woman hardly reacted. Most grown-ups would flinch and tiptoe around the subject. Slightly put-out, she carried on, "I live with my big brother, and his girlfriend, and with Tallis, of course."

"Of course!" Deanna smiled encouragingly, and glanced over to the chair where the boy was sleeping curled into an impossibly tight ball. "Your brother?"

"No, my nephew. And I'm not eight, miss, I'm ten."

"I apologise, I should stop making guesses! I seem to be getting everything wrong." The woman laughed, and Leanne wondered if it was real laughter. Most grown-ups didn't talk like this. She decided she didn't mind; the lady had a nice voice, with a strange lilting accent, and even if she was just being grown-uppy and secretive, she was still nice, and had fought off the horrible monster. So the girl tried to explain.

"My brother wouldn't leave us alone, not normally. But he has to work, and so does Katy. Usually me 'n Tal are at school when they're working and we all meet up at the gates and walk home together, you know? But sometimes the school has a power cut, when they're rationing off the power and don't tell the school before, you know? And it's a basement because of the… the immortals. They wanted us to be safe, not to have big windows. So when they have a power cut we can't see, so we're all sent home early. When that happens I'm to take Tal home and keep him quiet for the day until there are grown-ups around. Usually he's fine, but today…today…"

Deanna stood up quickly to lean over the table. It took Leanne a moment to realise she was being offered a handkerchief.

"Don't cry," The woman said, "Nothing was your fault, not really."

"I took him outside, though! On my own! Daniel's going to be so a-a-angry at me!" Leanne sobbed into the piece of cloth. The woman stared at her for a moment, and then sat down heavily.

"What… what did you say your brother's name was?" She whispered. Leanne repeated it through sobs, wondering if this grownup was going to tell on her.

"And the lady's name is Katy? And you're Leanne?" The woman's soft voice was oddly insistent. Leanne nodded. Perhaps she was going to call the police…

And then the woman did something unbelievable.

She started laughing.

888

Leanne curled up under her duvet, hugging her toy duck to her chest and repeating her promise over and over again until it was etched into her dreams. Don't let your brother know what happened. He'll only worry. Promise me you won't tell him a single word.

Leanne was proud of herself, and whispered why to the duck: "I didn't say a word."

888

"I didn't say a word." Said Daine, "Not one word. Nothing. I don't see why you're so angry at me!"

"You brought them into our home!" Numair threw his hands up and stomped into the next room mid-accusation, knowing full well that his voice would carry through into the kitchen. Daine decided to retort in kind.

"So what? I should have left them in the park, bleeding and scared out of their wits? I didn't even know who they were until long after they were already here."

"They're not stray dogs, Daine." Numair's voice was softer, but dangerous. "They can speak to other people. What do you think they will say first?"

"Nothing! Not our names, not anything about us, and definitely not that we know their family already. Nothing. All that little girl knows is where we live, because even though I can lie about the rest of our life I can't pretend we don't live here…"

"Yes, the little girl told me that the woman who lives in that house can fight off a whole immortal on her own, and, you know, I talked to the neighbours and apparently she moved in around the same time the monsters reappeared. Well, let's just check up on them, see… oh, wait, they're not on our records! Where did they come from? Odd, how they suddenly appeared with the immortals..!"

"You're exaggerating." Daine picked at a splinter from the table, trying not to pretend it was her husband's stubborn will she was smoothing out with vengeful fingernails. "That won't happen. People aren't that suspicious."

"They're still looking for someone to blame." Numair pointed out, walking back into the room with a face set like thunder. "You see it every day in the papers. And since we actually are to blame, and Daniel, and Katy, it would be best if we all kept a low profile… and didn't incriminate each other."

Daine opened her mouth to reply, and then hissed between her teeth when the splinter embedded itself in her fingertip. Rather than get dragged back into a shouting match, she shrugged off her answer and busied herself trying to pull the fragment out with her teeth. The silence was perhaps a good thing; after a few minutes Numair had calmed down enough to sit down and speak quietly.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have helped them." He said, "Of course you should. I'm glad you did."

"We can't cut ourselves off forever," Daine gave up on the splinter and rested her head in her arms, sounding unbearably tired. "We can't. I miss the others, but you're right… we all have to start again, make our own lives. But how can we do that if we don't take risks and let people know us? Even if it's not really us, not our real names, not our real stories, even then. We have to let someone in. After spending hundreds of years trapped in the divine realms, I thought you'd be itching to meet someone new. I know I am!"

Numair sighed and tugged at his nose, trying to think of an excuse to say no when he knew she was actually right. But… "A child?"

"Yes, a child. Why not?" Daine couldn't help herself sounding defensive, and was relieved when Numair didn't notice the tone. Or perhaps he was purposefully avoiding raising the subject. They both knew that there were some things that shouldn't be spoken about in raised voices. He started to say something, and then stopped, looking away. Daine read his expression and forced herself to smile, knowing he could see through the expression like a sheet of glass.

"It doesn't mean I'm giving up."

"No. No, I know that, sweetling. But… won't having other people's children around be…"

"Oh, be still my beating jealous heart." Daine said tartly, ending the conversation once and for all.


	2. Evil Follows You

“You came back, then.” 

Leanne saw through the flat words straight away, seeing the glint in Deanna’s eyes that said she was as pleased to see her as Leanne was to be back. “I have free time on Saturday mornings, once I’ve done my chores. Today I did them in record time!”

“So you didn’t sweep out the corners?” The woman teased, and opened the door to let the houseguest in. Leanne carefully wiped off her feet before seeing the trail of muddy paw prints on the wooden boards and grinning. “Did Selki go paddling?”

“Not Selki, no. That was Jasper.” Leanne expected the woman to introduce another pet to her, but instead Deanna squatted down and pointed to the prints. “See, this pad here? You don’t get that shape in cat paws. Cat paws are rounder.”

“Oh. So Jasper’s a dog?” Leanne figured out, and felt an odd glow of pride when the woman nodded. “Can you tell all your pets by their paw prints, lady?”

Deanna stood up and frowned. “Well yes, I can, but I’m sad to recognise Jasper. I told him he should be more careful.”

Leanne giggled, but the woman didn’t seem to be joking, and darted back into the depths of the house after the rogue dog without another word to her guest. The girl peeled off her shoes slowly, feeling the odd prickly sensation of being left unwatched in another person’s home. The prickly feeling intensified, and she looked up to see another pair of eyes studying her. She stared back for a moment, and the man shrugged. 

“Avéra.” He said abruptly, and then turned and left. 

Leanne was still gaping after him when Deanna returned, holding a glass of fruit juice in each hand. 

“What does avéra mean, miss?” 

Deanna made an odd gesture that was half dismissive, half explanatory. “It’s a greeting. Or, I suppose you could call it a blessing. You know, to welcome someone safely into your home? It means… um, I guess you’d say ‘may no harm follow you’.” She grinned. “It also seems to mean that you’ve met my husband. Wait a moment.” She leaned around the door which Aaron had shut after him and called out, “Ista du eput avéra e Leanne, Aaron?” 

Leanne couldn’t hear the man’s reply, but since it seemed to be in the same lilting language it wouldn’t have made much difference if she could. Daine handed her one of the glasses, a faintly annoyed line between her eyes, and when the girl asked her what the reply had been she hesitated before replying. 

“He doesn’t really think you should be here. I suppose I should be grateful he said anything to you at all.” She smiled briefly, a false smile that even the child could see through, and finished, “Well, let’s not worry. He’ll come round eventually.” 

“What language is that?” Leanne followed the woman into the kitchen, stopping to stroke Selki when she spotted the cat dozing on top of a bookshelf in the hall. Deanna shrugged and looked sidelong at her, her eyes shifting to the cat for a distracted moment until she answered. 

“It used to be called Common, too, like your language is now. Not many people speak it any more, just people from… from where we came from. Languages die just like everything else, you see. So it doesn’t really have a name any more.” 

Leanne thought gravely for a moment. “What is the word for ‘common’ in it, then?” 

The corner of Deanna’s mouth turned up. “Yes, you’re right! Let’s call it Curun.”

“Curun. Avéra.” Leanne repeated the words a few times slowly, and then nodded. “I like it! Will you tell me more words?”

“You want to learn our language now?” Deanna laughed and gestured to the table. It took Leanne a moment to notice that some of the jars from the living room had been moved into the kitchen. “I thought you might want to know more about the medicines, since you seemed fair curious about them the last time you were here. But if you like, we can learn words instead.” 

“Or both!” The girl said eagerly, and then blushed. The woman laughed again- she laughed a lot, readily and easily, as if the world as a whole entertained her. 

“Surely. Well, then…” she picked up a jar and shook some of the contents onto the table- a tiny pile of dried brown things. 

“These are mushrooms. The word for mushrooms is utumn, and these particular mushrooms are a special type known as a birch bracket…”

888

Monday mornings always dragged by at school, and this Monday was so slow it was like a special kind of torture. Leanne ignored her usual seat to sit at the back of the class, staring out of the window so she could daydream while the teacher droned on about the basic laws of magic. Her mind reeled through her own lesson, repeating the strange words as if they held some vast secret. Avéra, greetings. Curun, common. Utumn, mushrooms. Gley, herbs. Meh and du for me and you. They were unlike any other language she’d ever heard before; not like the guttural sounds she had to repeat in Carthaki class, or the fluid vowels of the Yamani language. Those words slipped right out of her head or tangled on her tongue before she could say them. But she could remember easily that noméra meant goodbye, and when she’d repeated it back to Deanna the woman’s eyes had lit up. 

“Miss Kitwake!” A hand slammed down onto the desk in front of her, making her jump, and she blinked up at the teacher. He was an old man, running to fat, and his cheeks wobbled when he was angry. They wobbled now, making the rest of the class giggle.

“You’ve not been paying attention!” 

“Nanïm!” She blurted automatically, apologising, and then realised what she’d said when the rest of the class sniggered. Flushing, she tried again, seeing the vein pulsing in the teacher’s forehead. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Sorry? Sorry? You don’t know how lucky you are!” The teacher frothed, and the class collectively sighed at the lecture they knew was coming next. All the magic teachers had their own version of it, but Mr Kerry repeated his at least once a week. Some of the older students could recite it off by heart. 

“You don’t know how lucky you are to have these classes! Oh, you may snore and giggle your way through my lessons, but ten years ago if you had even the smallest trace of the gift… even the smallest spark… you’d have been taken away from your family like _that!”_

At this point, Kerry always snapped his podgy fingers. Today they were greasy; they didn’t make the snapping sound he was expecting, and he frowned. “You may complain about the power cuts, but it was worse before, when we had all the power in the world, but we didn’t know that it was being ripped out of our families’ veins! Oh yes, you’re happy enough to boil a pot of water with your gift now; back then, even sneezing sparks would curse you to life as a slave to the Sorrocks! And you’re sorry?” He scowled, jowls trembling, and then retreated back to the front of the class with his point made. 

“What’s wrong with you today?” Angelica leaned over from her desk to hiss at her friend. Leanne half-shrugged, copying down some notes from the board before the bell rang. The class she was lucky to have had apparently been on using the gift to move small objects. It was hardly inspirational. The bell rang before she finished, and she cursed under her breath as she frantically scribbled the last two sentences into unreadable scrawls. 

She wasn’t badly late, but even so Katy was tapping her foot impatiently outside. Normally Leanne got on well with her brother’s girlfriend, since she was the only real mother figure she’d known after her mum had been killed by a stormwing attack in the first immortal surge. But there were a few things that Katy did that annoyed her, and this was the main one. She couldn’t be a second late, or walk slowly, because to Katy time was everything. Today the girl’s tardiness only bought her a sidelong scowl, and they walked slightly more briskly than usual to catch the time up. 

They walked around to the junior part of the school, where Daniel was collecting Tallis, and when she saw him Leanne ran ahead to give her brother a hug. 

“Hello, trouble!” He said warmly, ruffling her hair. “Good day?” 

“It was alright,” she replied, as she always did. He laughed and took hold of Tallis’ hand so they could start walking. 

“I’ve been thinking,” He said, “About what happened on Friday. Who was it you said looked after you?” 

“Her name’s Deanna, she’s a vet.” Leanne repeated solidly, not sure where her brother was going with this. He smiled and nodded. 

“Ah yes, I remember. Well, I’d like to meet her and thank her for looking after both of you, and for bandaging up Tallis’ leg. I don’t think he’ll even have a scar, it’s healing that well! So how about we walk round there before tea?” 

“I don’t know…” Leanne said slowly. She didn’t want Daniel to find out that she’d sneaked over there on Saturday, when she was supposed to be at Angelica’s house. He was usually so mild-mannered, but his temper did get nasty when he was lied to. He didn’t like secrets, he said, and refused to have them in the house. Thankfully she was spared from having to think of an excuse when Katy chipped in. 

“We can’t go today, Daniel, we have to go to that… to the meeting.” She looked around as she changed the end of her sentence, and Daniel sighed. 

“They talk and talk and never do anything. We could miss a night, they wouldn’t notice.” 

“And then they’d talk and talk about us!” Katy’s voice was playful, but her eyes glinted. The man thought about that for a moment and then nodded, his voice a shrug. 

“Well, I want to thank Deanna anyway. Leanne, how about you take a letter around to her from us? We’ll be back before dark, and you’ll be perfectly safe if you keep to the streets.” 

Leanne was nodding eagerly before Daniel even finished his sentence, and couldn’t stop the disappointed moue she made when he finished, “And take your nephew with you.”

“But he’s so annoying!” Leanne whined, kicking her feet. Katy glared at her, ready to yell if she scuffed her shoes, but the girl only stopped when her brother squeezed her hand. 

“I know it’s hard for you to look after him, but you’re so good at it, Lee. We can’t take him to the meeting with us. There’s things that we don’t want you kids mixed up in, not until you’re old enough to decide whether you want to do them or not.” 

Leanne pouted but didn’t argue. Her brother was always going to the meetings, and he never seemed happy about them. Once he’d even missed her birthday party, when the time for a meeting was suddenly changed. He never spoke about what they did, but Katy sometimes let something slip, her eyes shining with excitement when she used words like plan and proof and protest and lots of other words starting with P. Daniel’s eyes would always flicker towards the children when he asked her to hush. It was one of the only things the grown-ups fought over. 

It had taken The Scary Night before Katy stopped talking about the meetings in front of them. Leanne remembered that night, remembered how the front door had slammed loudly, waking her and Tallis up, and how Daniel had rushed into her room smelling of smoke and sweat and the night and another strange, coppery scent, shaking with fear but telling her to stop crying, to be quiet, to turn the lights out, because _they mustn’t know we’re here…_

…no, Leanne didn’t want to think about the meetings. Spending the afternoon with Deanna seemed much nicer. Even if it did mean taking the pest with her!

Daniel was smiling at her, thinking her silence was compliance, and unstrung her pass from his neck. It usually hung there next to his, a small square of card on a long chain, with her Gift type and name and strange codes and a picture on it. She took it solemnly. 

“Tallis will get his pass soon, won’t he?” She asked absently, running her fingertips along the edge of the card. She didn’t see Katy’s face darken, but she heard it in her voice:

“Yes, when he’s six. Then they’ll call him for his tests and give him his number and then check him every time he passes them on the street to make sure he’s one of the _good_ numbers.” 

“Katy,” Daniel’s voice was warning. Katy sighed and brushed her son’s hair back from his forehead before nudging him gently towards his aunt. 

“Off you go then. Have fun. Tell them we’ll thank them personally, just as soon as we’re able. If they’re not in, go straight home, you hear?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Leanne drawled, and then ducked when Katy took a playful swipe at her, sticking her tongue out before she ran down the road with her brother in tow. 

888

“So where did you say your family are?” Daine asked carefully, seeing the odd shadow in Leanne’s face when she thought of a reply. The woman sighed inwardly- whatever the answer was, it was likely going to be a lie. 

“They’re at work. Late. Working late.” There was no grace in the lie either, it was artlessly banal. Perhaps the child didn’t care if she was believed or not, or perhaps she just hadn’t had much practice with lying. Daine found herself hoping it was the second reason. 

“Do they work late often?” She made her own voice as artless, and saw the odd mixture of surprise and stubbornness flash across Leanne’s eyes. 

“’s right. It’s important. It’s more important than being with us. So it’s too important to talk about with people we don’t know.” 

The words were defiant, practiced, but spoken with some pain. It was obviously a sore point. Perhaps she should drop it, but Daine opened her mouth to ask… she wasn’t sure what, really. She just knew that there wasn’t much that would make a young family trust their children with strangers, and the way things were at the moment, she doubted it was something safe. 

Numair interrupted her before she could ask her next question, calling out to her from the doorway before he’d even shut the door, and she excused herself to the children before she went to join him. He was pulling his coat off, leaving the sleeves inside out in his haste, and as soon as he saw her he started speaking rapidly. 

“They did it. They voted on it today. They’re all in favour of it.” He tried to hang the coat up and cursed broadly when it fell from the hook. Daine barely noticed. Blood drained from her face as his words sank in. 

“But… they can’t.” She caught hold of the wall, not trusting her legs not to shake under her. “I never thought they would… they won’t actually…”

“Oh, they will.” Numair’s voice was grim as he picked up the coat and kicked off his boots. “They don’t know anything. They see any immortals as animals, as… as beasts to be butchered. They have the technology, after all. A few hundred years of draining human beings has given them good practice! They were so happy, Daine. They were joking about how much power a creature made of magic, rather than just having magic, would produce in a few years wired up to their machines…”

“Please don’t.” Daine whispered, knowing that he was furious and needing to rant, but feeling sicker with every word he said. Her husband glanced up and then paused, stepping forward to wrap an arm around her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, “I wasn’t thinking; I’m angry. Are you alright? You’re white as a sheet.” 

“They wouldn’t even know about the dragons if it wasn’t for us.” Daine’s voice was bitter. “I told Kit we’d find our own way out of the divine realms once the barrier was destroyed, but she wouldn’t hear of it… and now…”

“They’ll fight back, you know.” Numair wasn’t sure if his voice was doubtful or reassuring, but both of them knew what he meant. Blood would be spilled, both silver and red, over this decision. He took a deep breath and amended his sentence. “We have to find some way to warn them. The spells have the same pull over them they always did, when Ozorne dragged the immortals through… but they can at least be prepared for it this time.” 

“Missus Draper?” The voice was high pitched and uncertain, and Tallis actually took a step back when Numair looked down at him. “Missus, are you alright? Grown ups don’t cry, you know.”

“I’m not crying.” Daine hastily wiped under her eyes and thanked the gods that the harsher sounds of Common hid the roughness in her voice. “Go back to your sister, Tallis, this is a grown-up talk.”

“Yes ma’am.” The little boy trailed back into the kitchen obediently, looking back in frank curiosity but keeping firmly to command.

“What are they doing here?” Numair asked. Daine explained to him about the thank-you message, and the strange absence of both their parents. 

“So they’re in the resistance.” He concluded after a few sentences. The woman shrugged and half-smiled. 

“It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it? I was thinking the same thing before you got here.”

Numair tugged at his nose, eyes distant. “Well, if they’re in the resistance, we could use their help.”

“No.” Daine was surprised at the strength in her voice. “No. We owe them more than to mix them up in this.”

“Daine, they’re going to be mixed up in it anyway.” The man’s voice was kind, but held the same vein of iron. “Better they’re prepared…”

“They’re prepared. We did that to them ourselves. They know how to protect themselves. This time, let them make their own choices.” The woman ran a hand through her hair, frustrated and not knowing how to explain herself. “We can’t keep dragging them into our problems.”

“But you’re perfectly happy to let their children…”

“That’s different.” Daine knew she was being hypocritical but didn’t care. “They’re innocent.” 

Numair looked at her for a long moment, and then sighed. “Well, then… I won’t approach them. Not yet. There’s a lot to be done before we take action, anyway. But… the very second that the council rips the barriers apart, there’s going to be chaos to answer to.”

“I know.” Daine set her jaw. “I can teach the children. They’ll be safer for it. They don’t need to know why.”

“Poor little soldiers.” Numair said, and shrugged. “Better you’d tell them.”

“I won’t. Let them have one last summer.” Daine bit her lip and glanced out of the glass-panelled door. The birds called to each other outside, and it was so peaceful that she wondered if the group of officials who had voted today knew they were plunging their country into a vicious war.


	3. Summer

Leanne remembered the next few months in a kind of haze, a mist of happiness and hard work and herbs and words. The summer grew richer, thicker. Sometimes it was difficult to drag her feet through the hot streets back home after the coolness of Deanna's stone-floored kitchen, but it was never a chore to run through the streets towards the vet's home. That summer all the colours seemed brighter, somehow, as if everything had been painted over in rich oils, and yet a torrid yellow seeped into everything, saturating the grass brown and the green leaves white.

She learned so much in those months, so much that she was surprised sometimes when she woke up and remembered it all. She took her nephew there with her a few times each week, but she herself was there whenever she had the time to run the short miles to the strange little world the grownups had created.

Now that she knew it better she could see that the oddly cramped house was more garden than building. The house opened onto a fairy-land wilderness of untamed trees and dusty flowers, all waving gently in the soft warm breeze and pushed hastily aside by the vet's tribe of pets whenever they rushed forward in greeting. Leanne still didn't know how many cats and dogs the woman had; the number seemed to change every few days. A few stayed, and she could soon greet them all by name: Selki, the cat. Jasper, the dog, who was good friends with another dog called Wilna, who was very fat and who Jasper guarded night and day. The day when Leanne was permitted to approach Wilna and pet her without the male dog growling was the first day that she truly felt accepted into Deanna's home. Then there were other animals- lots of birds, whose names she could never remember, and mice and squirrels. They weren't pets- Deanna had explained that very carefully- and yet they also greeted the girl in a cheerful flock whenever she went into the garden.

Even Deanna, usually so unshakeable, was surprised by how quickly Leanne learned to speak Curun. The girl drank every word up like water, whispering them to herself over and over again on her walk home and when she woke up each morning until the soft words even crept into her dreams. Perhaps it was partly her fascination with the strange woman and her house full of animals and secrets, but Leanne attacked her lessons with a determination she had never felt before. In less than two months she could understand most of what Daine said, although the woman still spoke more clearly than she did to her husband.

Leanne didn't realise how much she'd really learned until a fortnight later. She was walking home, and a small smiled played around her face, because she was pleased. Aaron had come home just as she was leaving, looking tired from the long, hot day. Without thinking, the little girl greeted him and apologised for getting in his way as she slipped out of the door. It was only when she was walking home that she realised that she had spoken in Curun. She hadn't even had to think about it.

A few weeks later the power cut out at school again, and instead of going home the little girl tripped happily along to Deanna's house. The place seemed quiet, and none of the animals ran to greet her as she pushed open the front door. Frowning, she looked around the house for Deanna. She had to be around, because the door was unlocked! She pushed open the door to the workroom and her eyes widened in shock.

A beautiful garland of leaves and herbs lay on the table, lightly touched by the sunlight as if the garden was trying to claim it back. Leanne's eyes widened at the new plants- herbs she didn't recognise, but which smelled sweet and rich and of something utterly alien to her. She breathed in deeply, almost able to taste the spices in their perfume, and reached out hesitantly to the garland to see if she could recognise any of the leaves by their shape.

"Don't touch that!" The voice was sharp, and Leanne pulled her hand back guiltily, feeling a hot flush tingle over the back of her neck. Deanna- Deanna who never raised her soft voice- glared at her and took her shoulder, steering her out of the workroom and into the kitchen. The girl opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, and then closed it with a snap at the woman's expression.

"I'm sorry," She said instead, her voice small and withering in her throat. Deanna didn't answer. Her lips pressed together into a thin white line as she busied herself boiling some water over the stove. The kitchen was sweltering but she didn't seem to notice, while Leanne felt too awkward even to move a hand to fan herself. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her throat, tickling horribly.

"It's for the goddess." The woman said abruptly, closing up a flue and not looking around. Leanne could tell how flustered she was; she didn't realise she was speaking pure Curun. "It's… it's special. You wouldn't know, you weren't raised to know the gods, after all. But there's some things you don't… you shouldn't…. ah." She shrugged, giving up, "It's nothing for you to worry about, anyway. But you mustn't go into that room on your own and touch our things anyway, Leanne. Some of the things Aaron works on are dangerous. They'd hurt you, understand?"

Leanne nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak. She didn't know how a spell could hurt more than the burning ice in her stomach. Deanna smiled at her, at her agreeing, but even the smile felt like an accusation. The woman seemed odd today. She was more irritable than usual, struggling slightly more with some of her words when she remembered to speak Common, and whispering under her breath in Curun as she distractedly fed the animals. Leanne drank the cup of tea she was given as quickly as she dared, and then muttered something about needing to babysit tonight.

Deanna looked up, distracted, and faked a smile. "I'm sorry, I've been a bit of a bear today." She nodded at the herbs Leanne had sorted and tied together for drying, her voice warm. "You've done well today. I'm not angry at you! It's just today is… well, I'll explain to you another time."

"Is it a bad thing?" Leanne found her voice, finally, and Deanna shook her head with a laugh.

"No, not at all! It's just that Aaron and I have been asking the gods for something for years now, and tonight is a special night to ask on, and every year I get more nervous about whether or not they'll answer us. Sort of like in the midwinter festival, when you don't know if you've been good enough to get presents, and you get really worried before you go to sleep."

"I don't any more, though." The girl's voice was dour, "I know that it's just the grownups really."

"Well, they _help."_ Deanna's eyes twinkled and she moved to open the door.

Leanne couldn't sleep that night. When she looked at her clock it said it was nearly eleven- very late, for her! But she couldn't make her eyes close without seeing the strange displaced anger on Deanna's face, or turn her face into her pillow without smelling the odd richness of that garland. She wondered how they were planning to give it to the Goddess. In her head she saw it like a trade, with the goddess dressed as a supermarket attendant, taking the garland and nonchalantly giving the couple back… what? Money? Jewels? What could they possibly want?

The girl didn't know, but she did know that eleven at night was hardly late at all for a grownup. She swung her legs out of bed as quietly as she dared, knowing every creaking floorboard, and pulled on some clothes, slipping her taser into a pocket just in case she was attacked. Happily it was the middle of summer; it was so hot she didn't need to pile on layers of heavy clothes, and when she climbed out of her window her sandals barely made a sound when they met the ground.

It seemed to only took a few dreamlike minutes to run to Deanna's house. The streets were unlit but the moon was so bright it barely seemed different from day time. After a few moments Leanne's eyes adjusted and she could see the blue outlines clearly. She was disappointed when she got to the house that all the windows were unlit. After all the effort of sneaking out, they'd gone out somewhere for the night! Perhaps the goddess lived in a Olau, she thought, and stifled a giggle. Then she saw the flickering orange light reflecting on the trees in the back garden, and sneaked around the fence to look. Maybe they were having a barbeque?

She'd been in the garden before, a few times, but she didn't like it much. It was enormous, but Deanna and Aaron let it grow as it pleased, and it was full of thistles and burrs and twisted trees, like being in the forest. There was a natural clearing in the middle of it, and that was where they had built the fire. For a moment Leanne thought it must be something sinister- some dark magic or ritual that she was spying on- but both the adults were laughing and chatting in light voices to each other. Deanna was lying with her head in Aaron's lap, pointing up at the sky as she spoke, and every time she lowered her hand she would stroke her husband's cheek, or run her fingertips along the bridge of his nose playfully.

Leanne thought about leaving- this looked like grownups stuff, the sort of thing she wasn't supposed to know about, and which made her brother blush hotly if she asked him about. It didn't seem right to spy on them like this. But she was captivated. They were like different people, so relaxed, and she realised she'd never actually seen them together before. Aaron was always either out or busy working when she was in the house. He made no secret of the fact he didn't approve of her being there. In her mind she'd dismissed the man as the reserved, emotionless type. Still, even the fascination of seeing this laughing, affectionate version of Deanna's husband couldn't hold her for long. She turned to leave, and the bats descended.

The girl just stopped herself from shrieking in time, ducking to cover her hair, and then gasped as the entire flock flooded into the garden. There must have been about fifty of them, all squeaking and snapping at midges as they flew past. Leanne stared back through the tiny gap in the fence, not believing her eyes.

 _I must be asleep. I must be._ She thought, rubbing her eyes to wake herself up. The bats all crowded into the garden, some nestling up against Deanna, who laughed and held her hand out to them before they flew away again. One in particular stopped and perched on her wrist, and she held it up so that Aaron could see it, too. There was a pause, and then Deanna said something, and then Aaron smiled and asked a question, and then there was another pause. This happened a few times before Leanne worked it out- somehow, they were talking to the bat! How was that possible?

 _Perhaps the bat is the goddess…_ she wondered, and then shook her head. No, Deanna was translating for the man to understand. If it was the goddess they would both understand, surely? So it was just a bat, and Deanna was the one who was odd, who was strange, who was chatting to woodland creatures…

…she pressed her ear to the gap and concentrated. They were speaking Curun a lot faster than she had ever heard it, since Deanna spoke slowly to help her understand the words. But if she really listened hard…

"It's lovely to meet the whole flock, but… did they bring any news?" Aaron was saying, his voice half-joking, half-serious. Daine glanced up at him, biting her lip.

"It's not as simple as that," She explained, "They can't just hear a human and understand, it takes them time to think about how to say things, and with lots of them they're arguing a lot… ah." She tilted her head slightly, as if listening, and smiled. "They say the short orange human is well, and shouted at them when they roosted in her house. She was about to chase them out with a broom until she remembered that it was Beltane. And then she apologised. She gave them a paper message…?" At this she looked around at the circling bats and held her free hand out to one of the ones in a closer tree. The tiny creature flew over instantly, cheeping excitedly at its mission, and nuzzled against Deanna's face before it calmed down enough for Aaron to take the tiny capsule from its leg. They were silent for a few moments, unrolling the scroll of paper and reading it.

Leanne shuddered. She liked animals, but she didn't think she'd want anything so mouse-like so close to her face! And wasn't it supposed to be pigeons that carried messages? Now that the electricity was running out and people couldn't use their phones they'd started trying to set up messenger pigeon networks, but it was slow work. She couldn't imagine even trying with bats…!

Whatever they read in the note took them a long time. Both grown-ups started out smiling, as if they were hearing from someone they'd not seen in a long time. Gradually, though, their faces saddened, as if there was some bad news in the note, and when they finished reading it neither of them spoke for a long time.

"I wish we could actually go and see her." Deanna said slowly. "She says the same thing is happening to her, like it's not important, but I'm worried. She doesn't really have anyone to talk to."

"It was her idea for us all to split up. It was hard enough to convince her that we should keep in touch at all." Aaron folded the scrap of paper meticulously and tucked it into his pocket. His wife sighed and nodded, looking pensive. Leanne wondered who they were talking about, and why they'd had to split up. That was something people did when they were hiding, wasn't it? Like bank robbers in story books.

"We need to tell her about the dragons." Deanne said quietly. "Even out in the desert, she'll still need to pick a side."

"Who was it who was telling me that we should keep the others out of this?" Numair's voice was pointed, and Deanna laughed mockingly.

"Well, if you want to suggest to Alanna that she stay out of a fight, then you go ahead, mister brave-and-foolish-mage!"

"Fair point." He conceded, and shrugged when he looked around. Leanne ducked away from the fence, but he hadn't seen her. He said, "We can think about what to tell her later, anyway. The bats have gone."

"They were hungry. It's getting late." Deanna was saying when Leanne dared to look back through the gap. Aaron said something too softly for the eavesdropper to hear, and then they stood up and looked for a moment at the dying embers of the fire. Deanna leaned down for a moment, and when she stood up the reddish light made the garland in her hands glow a rich brown. She held it out to her husband, and together they threw it into the embers.

If Leanne had expected the wreath to explode into flames she was disappointed; as soon as the herbs were thrown onto the fire the blaze vanished and the embers were all that were left, sweetly perfumed with the clove-rose-like scent of the plants. She watched as both grownups knelt down to bow to the fire, a movement so old-fashioned it wouldn't have looked out of place in a theatre play, and then stood, linked hands, and jumped over the embers. 

The bowing and the jumping would have looked silly, but they were both done so solemnly, so gracefully, that it was more like a dance than anything else. When they were on the other side of the blaze they bowed again, this time with their hands still linked. They were silent for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts, the red ember-light glancing off their faces and turning them into pools of shadow. Aaron moved first, brushing a tear gently from his wife's cheek with his free hand.

"Daine," Aaron's Curun was so quiet Leanne had to strain to hear it. She didn't recognise the word, or the next word he said. "Sweetling, don't cry. They'll hear us when they have time to listen."

"They've ignored us for eleven years. We gave them everything we had…" Deanna's voice was choked, the words were bitter as if she'd said them many times before. "We gave them _everything._ Our friends, our home, our time, our family… our _lives,_ Numair. Are we so selfish for wanting a little of that back?"

"No, no of course not." The man held her closely for a long time, his voice quiet, soothing. "They will remember us; you'll see. They'll notice we're not getting any older, and they'll blame us, and then we'll be mortal again, and we can start again, have a family, grow old together. But please don't cry, sweetling, I can't bear it."

"You really think that's why I can't… I haven't…" Deanna bit her lip, her hands tightening around Aaron's back. He laughed wryly.

"I do, and so do you really… but we only talk about this at Beltane, when you're upset, and so you always argue with me."

"I do not!" The woman retorted, and then thought about it for a minute and flushed, her tears drying on her cheeks as she laughed. "Or perhaps I do."

"We've had children before. Nothing's changed." The words would have been reassuring a few minutes before, but now there was something playful in Aaron's voice too, relieved and weightless.

"Well, I am an old lady now." Deanna smiled up at him. "I count my age in centuries, and I still run out of fingers."

"It's a good thing you have toes, then!"

"But then people have to see my poor liver-spotted flesh every time I take my boots off to count." Deanna's voice was mockingly mournful, but it held a definite challenge. Aaron raised an eyebrow in reply, and then swept the swirl of her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. Deanna sighed and shut her eyes.

"I do not believe you have a single liver spot, Mrs. Salmalin." Aaron said, his voice husky. The woman's eyes fluttered open and she smiled slowly.

"But I always argue with you at Beltane, dearest. I say that I do. I know you hate to be wrong, but…"

"I'm not wrong, beautiful." The man ran his fingertip along the line of her jaw, making Deanna turn her head so he could kiss the other side of her throat. "And you should know, I'm going to search every inch of your body to win this argument."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Deanna murmured, and wrapped her arms around his back to draw him even closer, so that in the firelight their two silhouettes became one sinuous shadow.

Leanne pushed herself back from the fence and ran, her sandals slapping the tarmac when she finally reached the main road. By the time she got home she could almost tell herself that the odd upside-down feeling in her stomach was just a stitch.

Her head was spinning. How could any of what she'd heard be true? No-one could be immortal. It just didn't happen. They didn't have the silver fingernails of the immortal creatures that invaded the town. They looked like normal human beings. But the more Leanne thought about it, the more sick she felt. The monsters were immortal. Why not humans, too?

By the next morning she was sure. She had hardly slept, but she was sure that the two people she had thought she'd known were liars, and bad people, although she wasn't sure why she thought the second one. She did know that they'd somehow swapped something for immortality, at the same time that the monsters had appeared. That must be what Deanna was wanting from the goddess, some way to back out of it.

 _Did they let the monsters appear for it?_ Leanne wondered, lying in bed with her fists clenched by her sides. _Is that how they did it? Is it their fault so many people died?_

For the first time in her life the child squeezed her eyes shut in prayer, not even knowing which god she was sending her vague thought to. _Don't listen to them. They deserve whatever you tricked them with. Don't listen to them._


	4. No Reason

It wasn't the headache which woke Leanne up the next morning, but it pounded behind her eyes as she rubbed sleep from them and hauled herself out of bed. The doorbell sounded a second time, and from the sound of raised voices in the kitchen she could tell that Katy and Daniel were too busy arguing again to hear it. Groaning, she trotted down the stairs and wrenched the door open.

"What is…" she began, and then her mouth opened in a wide gape. "Deanna?"

"Hullo, Leanne." The woman's voice was as softly amused as always, but she ran her hand through her own hair a little nervously.

Leanne's mind was hurled into a whirl that made coherent thought spin impossibly from her grasp. Had she been seen? Did they know that last night, a little girl had spied on them? Deanna's normal self-assurance was such a vital part of her mask that any crack, any weakness in the façade, made less sense to Leanne than the simple thought that perhaps the woman was tired. She bit her lip and knew her eyes were too wide, too horrified to do anything but betray the truth.

Deanna didn't notice, and that was horrifying, too.

The woman's nervous fingers tangled in the white streak which ran down from her left temple, twisting fitfully into the tangle of dark brown curls. She winced and brushed it back behind her ear before she carried on.

"I'm sorry for calling so early. We don't have a phone, you see, and…" she realised she was rambling and pulled a face. Even though she couldn't push back her bitter thoughts from the night before, Leanne found herself laughing in relief at the familiar expression.

Perhaps I'm wrong… she thought. Perhaps she's not just pretending to be nice. The little girl smiled more easily then, and Deanna smiled back.

"Well, because it's the Beltane holiday Aaron doesn't have to go to work, so we're going out into the countryside today. Like a… a picnic." The woman said the last word a little clumsily, as if she hardly knew what it meant. "We wondered if you'd like to come with us."

"A picnic? Me?" Leanne's mouth hung open for a second time. Picnics were something people had done in the old days, before the immortals had descended! She was sure Deanna could defend herself, and she didn't really care about Aaron, but why would they take a chid? Deanna shook her head impatiently and gestured towards the sounds of shouting voices.

"Uhm, not just you. All of you. I… no, Aaron… no, we… we thought it was about time we met your family."

"Oh." The little girl bit her lip and glanced back towards the kitchen. "They're at a meeting today, though. They always argue like this before their stupid meetings."

"When they've finished, then?" Deanna's smile looked a little strained. "We can tell them where we're going and they can meet us there this afternoon."

"Do you want to ask them?" Leanne didn't know if she wanted to go, but it would look strange if she suddenly started refusing to spend time with the woman she'd been clinging to for so many months. She turned to run and fetch Daniel, and stopped short when Deanna caught her arm.

"N…no. Not… you can ask them, Leanne. Tell them we're going to the tower near the Royal Lake. And when you're dressed you can meet us at our house and tell me if they're coming. Okay?" She winked. "You'll have enough time to convince them. I still have to make the picnic, you see."

"Okay…" Leanne said dubiously, and shut the door behind the woman as she left. Chewing nervously on her knuckle, she wandered into the kitchen and sat at the counter. She had poured herself a bowl of cereal before either of the grown-ups realised she was there.

"Who was at the door, Lee?" Daniel asked, interrupting Katy mid-tirade. The woman glared at him and turned towards the kettle.

"It was Deanna." The girl said around a large mouthful of chocolate hoops. "She wants to know if you wanna meet them. At a picnic, she said, after you finish your meeting. They're going to the tower near the… erm… the King's Lake?"

"Royal Lake." Katy corrected her tersely. Leanne rolled her eyes and scooped up another spoonful of milk. Daniel looked intrigued.

"I'd like to meet them," he said slowly, and ruffled his son's hair. "They've been so good to you two monkeys these past few months."

"Which they wouldn't have to do if certain people spent more time with their family…" Katy started their argument again, and then bit off her words and sighed. "I guess I'd like to meet them, too."

"Good, then we'll go." Daniel tweaked his sister's nose and pushed a cup of frothy milk closer to Tallis.

By the time they were dressed another hour had passed. Katy's oddly sporadic maternal instinct had gone into overdrive at exactly the wrong moment, and both the children were slathered in enough sunblock to make their skin quite the wrong shade. Daniel hadn't commented on the pointed way Katy had mothered his sister, although before he left he disappeared into the garage and came out with something heavy.

"Here," he said, and held it out to his sister. "I think you're old enough to have this. I know you said Deanna carries a bow with her everywhere, but… but just in case."

Leanne bit her lip and took it. She found she was holding a small pellet gun, loaded with tiny metal slugs and cold in her palm. It wouldn't kill anything, she knew, but it would be painful and make a loud enough noise to scare some of the more nervous creatures. She looked up for her brother, not quite knowing what to say, and found that as soon as he'd given her the weapon he had disappeared again.

She hefted the gun one last time and then tucked it into her belt. Before she left she tugged the end of her shirt over it. Something told her that Katy would disapprove of her having a weapon.

Deanna and Aaron had loaded up the car by the time they arrived. Leanne told them that the others had agreed to meet them later. They climbed into the car and set off, rolling down the windows to let the balmy summer air blast in.

"Are you sure about this?" Deanna asked Aaron in Curun, her voice low under the roar of the wind. Aaron flicked the indicator switch off and then rapidly caught his wife's hand. Leanne didn't think he replied, but when the man returned his hands to the steering wheel a moment later she noticed that Deanna looked thoughtful. The woman rested her elbow on the door and gazed out of the open window, her curls blowing wildly around her face as the miles slipped by.

They drove for nearly an hour and then pulled up in a scrubby field that looked exactly the same to Leanne as every other patch of abandoned farmland they'd driven through. The adults seemed to recognise the place, though, and unloaded the car. Deanna slung her longbow and a quiver over her shoulder and Aaron took the rucksack full of food. Recognising the rustle of crisp packets in the bag, Tallis squeaked excitedly and ran to walk with the man. Leanne frowned and hung back to walk with Deanna. She'd have to teach her brother that sometimes being safe was better than being fed.

"He'll be fine," Deanne said, seeing the girl's troubled expression. "Aaron's a mage. He may not look it but he's far more deadly than my bow when he wants to be."

Leanne watched as the tall man noticed the tiny child skipping along next to him. Without missing a step, Aaron reached down and hoisted Tallis up over his shoulders. The child laughed in delight and started playing with the man's tied up hair.

"I thought Aaron didn't like us!" Leanne blurted out, and then blushed. "He never talks to us."

"Human beings are strange creatures sometimes." Deanna's voice was full of laughter, although her eyes were a little sad as she looked at the tableaux her husband made carrying the child. "Aaron doesn't like speaking Common, I guess."

"But he doesn't speak to me in Curun either." The girl persisted. Deanna opened her mouth to say something, and then shrugged and started walking.

They continued along a dusty trail for a while, and then they rounded a small crest and the tower appeared. Beside a shining golden lake there was a large copse of trees whose leaves were almost translucent green in the bright sunlight. The tower rose from the centre of the trees like it had grown there along with them. Its stone walls were smothered in ivy and moss and the blue sky glowed through the empty windows, making it seem to merge into the sky. Deanna stopped short at the curve in the trail and caught her breath, her grey eyes fixed on the landscape.

"It's very beautiful," Leanne said uncertainly, wondering why the woman was so stunned by the sight. Deanna let her breath out in a rush and tore her eyes away.

"Yes," she whispered, almost to herself. "Yes, it always was. I'd forgotten."

They did not go to the building straight away, but found a stretch of soft sand that jutted into the lake nearby and set out their picnic in a neat circle. At first Leanne hung back and talked to Deanna. She was shy of being around the woman's husband. This relaxed version of him seemed different again from the one she had spied on the night before. He seemed to be caught up playing with Tallis. Eventually the toddler grew bored and ran to the lake edge to look for tadpoles. Aaron pulled a dog eared book out of his pocket and lay down in the sand to read it.

"You're being very friendly, dearest." His wife teased him drily, sharing out triangles of sandwiches onto paper plates. Aaron didn't look up from the pages but his voice was fascinated.

"It's this thing called a murder mystery." He explained, turning another page with rapt eagerness. "I haven't read one before but there are so many details! George would love this. And if you, magelet, make me lose my place before I finish this chapter I will turn you into a tree."

"I can't get used to stories being written down in books," Deanna dismissed the threat with a slight smirk and handed a plate to Leanne. Noticing the girl's baffled expression, the woman explained, "Where we come from people tell stories to each other out loud. There were…are… even people who would go from one place to another just to take stories to different people."

"A bard couldn't remember all these details." Aaron chipped in, having reached the end of his chapter. He put the book back in his pocket with a last wistful look at its closed cover, and tucked his hands behind his head.

A dark shape screeched overhead.

The thud of its great leathery wings tearing through the air stopped their conversation in its tracks. Leanne shrieked and covered her ears, and then remembered the gun she'd been given. She scrabbled for it desperately and then found that a hand had stopped her and was gently prising her fingers away from the barrel.

"Don't do that," Aaron's voice wasn't at all frightened. Leanne looked up with eyes that shone with tears to see that the man looked as calm and relaxed as he had when he was reading. She shook her head and tried to pull her hand away, terrified of the immortal that still circled overhead. Aaron kept speaking in a calm tone. "Don't draw a weapon. It's not interested in us right now – it's had a good look, that's all. It knows that we're not food and we're not an enemy. If it sees a weapon it'll think we're a threat and then it will attack us."

"But… it's… it's so loud!" Leanne whimpered, and glared up at the creature. Silver claws glinted in the sun, but she thought she could see the outline of a horse through the glare. Deanna's smaller hand touched her shoulder.

"She's just telling us we're in her territory. That's all."

"They must be nesting near here." Aaron looked around, and there was some surprise in his voice. "Where do you think they…?"

"The tower?" Leanne suggested in a small voice. Both adults glanced at each other and then shook their heads. For the first time since she'd seen them the night before, Leanne felt the sudden sick feeling in her stomach that told her that they were hiding something.

"I think it's deeper in the forest." Deanna said smoothly, and took her hand away from the girl's shoulder to point down the hill. Rich, dark leaves shone richly in the sunlight. "There, see? The branches are broken where they fly in and out."

Leanne obediently looked, but she couldn't see a single thing. She scowled and reached for a sandwich, glad that the creature had flown away but angry that she'd been so afraid. It was humiliating. Tallis hadn't made a sound – he was still happily playing by the brook. When she peered more closely, frowning at his happy obliviousness, her eyes caught an odd shimmer in the air. She recognised it from a half-remembered magic lesson: that was what a warding spell looked like. Hadn't Deanna said that Aaron was a mage? She hadn't even seen him casting a spell on her brother, but the child played happily under the shell of protection and silence which followed him about.

Leanne frowned and looked at the man, who was contently pulling the crusts off a cheese sandwich and throwing them towards a couple of wild ducks. Had he known the immortal would attack them? Or had he just wanted to keep her brother safe? Either answer made her feel cold. She hadn't seen him cast the spell.

"When you were growing up," she asked hesitantly, "Was magic still bad?"

Aaron looked up at her and his brow furrowed a little. "I'm sorry?" He asked in an oddly polite way. Leanne closed her mouth quickly and then tried again.

"I meant you… did you learn how to do magic stuff secretly? So people couldn't see you?"

He didn't answer for a moment, and then he tore another piece of crust from his sandwich. "You're learning magic at school, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"Well, then you must know that you don't really need the… the rituals and waving hands and all the special words. Most of that's just nonsense the Sorrocks made up to vilify the Gifted."

"Vilify?" The girl asked. Aaron waved a hand dismissively.

"I meant, they wanted to make them look bad. They wanted to control the Gifted and make the Ungifted afraid of them. So they pretended they were babbling shamans, making magic wands out of children's bones and shrieking words that were so evil they would make your ears bleed. Now you and I know that's not the least bit true. But a lot of people used to believe it.

"So what did the Gifted do? They looked at their spells and stripped away all the nonsense until all that was left was the important things. The stuff that makes the magic work. So, to answer your question – no, I didn't learn how to 'do magic stuff secretly'. I unlearned. I made myself get rid of all the showy stuff."

"That was a really long answer." Leanne remarked, sounding a little dazed. "Like a history lesson."

Deanna smothered a laugh behind her hand and stood up, heading down the hill towards Tallis to carry him a cup of squash. Aaron's eyes never left Leanne's.

"Now, tell me: why did you ask?"

The girl reddened and looked away. "No reason." She picked a daisy and rubbed the petals between her fingers, wincing at the feeling of the cloying pollen and waxy pulp working its way into her fingernails. She didn't look up and her own question was just as pointed: "Why did you ask us to have a picnic with you?"

He laughed and stood up, brushing dry grass from his knees.

"No reason." He echoed it mockingly, and then strode away.


	5. Wordless

Daine had asked Numair why he was unhappy.

The question shocked him.

Not just because Daine had asked it, but because he didn't know the answer.

They had been together for so long that usually they knew one another's thoughts before they even knew how to speak about them aloud. There weren't many things in their own minds that they hadn't already spoken about; hundreds of years together had made even their most embarrassing secrets common knowledge. They confided in each other at first because they adored each other, but after a few centuries their intimate confidences simply became something to break the monotony.

Now, freed from the strange prison of the divine realms, they had lost the habit of asking after one another. If they spoke about anything it was usually to do with someone else: Leanne, Tallis, the men Numair worked with or the people who brought their sick animals to Daine. They didn't need to speak about each other anymore, and so they rarely did.

Beltane had given Numair an excuse to coax Daine's dark thoughts out of her lurking mind, but even those hidden painful words had been old and familiar to both of them. Daine had said so herself: it was eleven years since their escape from the Divine Realms, and so it was eleven years since their unwanted immortality was supposed to have vanished away. Eleven years was long enough for any story to die. It seemed perverse that this one refused to even take its first living breath.

Time seemed to move more slowly now that they were living it.

After they made love at Beltane the fire had burned down to slow embers, and the heavy perfume of the garland they had thrown into the blaze crept out of the smoke in slow, ponderous coils. The silvery strands wove through the long grasses like ghosts, not stirring a single leaf as they bled gently away into the still summer air.

The world was silent and dark outside of their circle of dimming light. Other households barred their windows and bolted their doors at night, afraid of the creatures which could move like shadows in the darkness. There were no streetlamps anymore, and there were no cars or distant sirens. Families flinched at every sound, but in the garden Daine and Numair weren't afraid. They barely remembered how to be scared. The night held no terrors they couldn't fight, and in their eyes the world breathed as peacefully as they did.

Daine turned in her husband's arms and traced the line of his face with light fingers. It seemed very strange to Numair that she started speaking. This was something else in their lives that no longer needed words. Numair couldn't remember a time when it ever had.

"I know you're unhappy." Daine's whisper broke the silence gently, but the words made the man flinch. She bit her lip and then rested her forehead against his cheek for a moment, apologising for a hurt which she couldn't understand.

He looked at her, so small that his arms almost hid her away. The light outlined her body, made the soft hairs on her arms halo her slightness like a sylph. "I don't know whether I'm unhappy or not, sweet. It's not that simple."

She didn't answer, but he felt the softness of her lips against his cheek, the warmth of her breath against his skin. Then she was still again, and quiet, and he knew her thoughts more than he knew his own. She was worried, and he didn't want that. It wasn't needful, and it didn't help. And so he spoke; for the first time in years he spoke thoughts she hadn't heard before.

"Do you ever look at the fire, Daine?" He asked softly, and loosened his arms a little so she could turn and see.

He had always held her so tightly; sometimes he woke up with her hands curled around his wrists, her soft whisper half-alarmed, half-laughing in the darkness. _Numair, you're hurting me._ Wakefulness would bring guilt, the sudden desire to hold her even closer as if his embrace could be the thing that brought her back even as it scared her away. But no, she didn't mind, she said. It made her feel safe.

Safe from what? The question haunted his dreams, giving them a thousand demonic faces, and so he had never learned to let her go. Now he looped an arm about her waist and kissed the nape of her neck before gesturing at the coiling smoke, the dark brightness of the dying embers.

"I look at it and I don't think I see the fire. Not the real one, the one that we built a few hours ago for the gods. I see… I see the fires we used to have. A hundred campfires in the Royal Forest, or on the trail to Dunlath, or on the borders of Scanra. It's just a fire, and so it could be any single one of those fires. We could stand up and walk out of this clearing and the wolf pack would be there to greet us, or Onua, or a scouting patrol.

"We could wait for the sun to rise and see… see the mountains, or the endless trees, or a world that was so much bigger because we had no idea what was beyond the Yamani Isles or past the Roof. It could be any of those fires. It has been all those fires. But I can never see it and see the fire that we made today, behind our house, in this world that's covered in stone."

"But… you don't know if that makes you unhappy?" She asked, sounding confused. He shook his head, smiling a little self-mockingly.

"It makes me homesick. But then the fire goes out, and the thoughts go away. Then I think how lucky I am, to be in a new place with so many new things to learn about, and so many new books to read, and with my magelet to share it all with. And then I'm not sad at all, you see."

Daine was silent for a long time, playing with a knotted string bracelet which circled her husband's wrist. "I'm thinking," she said slowly, "we never really said goodbye, did we? When we left, it felt like it would be a few months, maybe, or at most a few years. If someone told us the whole world would be different by the time we crossed back between the realms, I'm fair sure we'd've laughed at them. So we never let go of it all, and that's why it hurts."

"I did wonder if you felt the same way." He murmured, and held her closer for a moment. She nodded, silent again, and he sighed and rested his cheek between the sharp curves of her shoulder blades, feeling the slow thud of a heart which defiantly beat rhythms which were ignored by an ageless shell.

"We should say goodbye." Daine said in Common. He counted the meaningless seconds that her heartbeat took to settle.

"To all of it?" He asked in their own language, and felt an odd flicker of unease. For the first time in years he genuinely didn't know what she would reply. She twisted in his embrace and met his eyes, and the man wondered if his own gaze held that same ruthless, fearful uncertainty.

"All of it." Her words were decided but he could only see grey eyes that begged for his approval, for the hope that their frozen lives might change because of a few words.

The next morning they collected Tallis and Leanne and drove to the tower. They invited Katy and Daniel at the last moment, in a blur of that same uncertain stubbornness. If their old life was to be buried, they decided, they could no longer live a half-life in secret silence in the new world.

Numair loped down towards the lake and caught up with Daine. She smiled up at him, having sat Tallis down in her lap to make him sit still for long enough to drink sensibly from a paper cup. The boy leaned contentedly against the woman's shoulder, already grown enough to look a little overlarge against her slight frame. His hair curled a little, but that was the only thing they had in common with one another.

Tallis was one of Rikash's very distant great-grandchildren, Numair knew, although he couldn't feel the same connection to the child that Daine obviously did. She had cried every time one of their descendants had died – hundreds of men and women over the years, and yet she shed bitter tears over each one.

Tallis was a child now. In a few short years he would be an old man, like all the others, and Daine would end up weeping for him as well. Numair found it hard to forgive the child for that.

"Are you ready?" He asked Daine, and looked up at the sky. "It's about time. The others will be here soon."

"Tha's my daddy coming!" Tallis squeaked, and spilled the cup of squash. Daine hid a smile and made a great show of picking up the cup from the drenched grass.

"Look what you did!" She scolded, and the boy paled as if she'd shouted at him. Daine sighed at the expression and kissed the crown of his head, where his babyish curls spiralled around. "Well, no harm done, pet. Go and see if Lee has left any of those chocolate biscuits for you. Aaron will cast a nice protection spell over you both if you promise to behave!"

When the children were contentedly bickering over the treats from the picnic the adults walked to the tower together. Their feet found the surest trail with ease, even though the rough dirt path had long since faded away into the meadow. Rough tree roots had reshaped the contours of the land, making a hill there, an ice-bitten crest there, as if the ground had become jealous of the sea's crashing waves and tried in its own slow way to mimic them.

The tower still stood, of course, and even in the cracked soft stone the mage-marks which protected the ancient building from frosts, winds and earthquakes still glowed strongly. Ivy looped heedlessly through arches and windows and buried barbed roots into the rotting hardwood timbers that had once held clay roofing tiles. They stepped through the doorway and looked up, seeing rays of light shining through windows all the way up to the barren roof. Square holes marked where floorboards had once been affixed to the walls, and the stone staircase which spiralled up the inner wall looked smaller and frailer than it had when it had been hidden behind wooden panels.

"Are you ready?" Daine asked, her voice quite small as if she were biting back tears. Numair took hold of her hand and held it tightly, and then nodded. He felt unable to let go, as if the woman he loved might darken into the same empty, shadowed space that haunted this ruin if he weren't there to keep her tethered to the mortal world.

"It's alright," She raised their linked hands and held them clasped against her chest. "We shouldn't be sad. Not really. If we didn't have so many happy memories of this place it wouldn't be so difficult now, would it?"

"Always so practical, Magelet." He smiled and tweaked her nose. "Alright, then. I'm ready."

They took one last look around the decaying building and then stepped outside, blinking in the suddenly bright sunlight and the wave of heat that hit them beyond the stone circle. Numair turned to the doorway and pressed a flat palm to the mage signs carved deep into the stone.

"Wait," Daine said suddenly, and he looked around. He'd thought she'd changed her mind at the last moment, but her eyes were closed and her lips were moving slightly as she spoke to some of the People. With an odd scream of combined irritation and surprise, a flock of birds that had been roosting in the ivy took wing and fled into the forest. She opened her eyes again, and although there was a little guilt in her eyes from tearing the creatures away from their homes, she definitely hadn't changed her mind. She nodded.

Numair pressed his forehead against his flattened hand and invoked a few words, feeling the strength in the spell he had carved into the door so many centuries ago. It writhed under his hands, feeling archaic and ancient as old spells often did. The magic had bled in and out of the stone for so long that it hardly remembered that it could be recalled. And then, in an odd shiver, the man felt it relent and pour back through his hand into his forehead, then into his core.

"That's it." He said, and looked up at the tower. It suddenly seemed too tall, too unstable for its narrow base to hold it without the thrall of ancient magic binding its rotting stones together. "We'd better stand back."

"That's it?" Daine looked utterly unimpressed.

"It'll look a lot more dramatic when it falls on your head." He retorted, and then grinned at the face she pulled. He didn't need to explain any more, as at that moment a load groan roared across the clearing and they both darted away from the building's shadow. The dark patch on the grass moved, swaying, and when they looked up at the tower the top section was leaning precariously to one side.

"How do you think they make those skyscraper things without magic to hold them upright?" Daine asked, watching the battlements starting to shiver. Small stones and centuries of dirt showered down into the grass.

"They have these special mystical men called architects who keep that a closely guarded secret."

"Really?"

"No." Numair laughed at her infuriated expression. "When are you going to read a book that's not about animals, dearest?"

"When you stop being an insufferable know-it-all." She muttered, and then pointed up at the roof. "Look – there it goes!"

The building swayed again, like a blade of grass that danced gracefully in the breeze. It stopped, groaning loudly, and then in a great sigh of sloughing stone and grit it pitched downwards. Metal shrieked as rusted iron spokes snapped one by one, sending window frames hurtling to the ground.

Daine gasped and shouted something out over the noise, and a brace of squirrels hurtled mindlessly out of a withered horse chestnut tree bare seconds before a huge mass of stone crashed into it. Over the scraping of snapping timbers the other stones followed it, each leaving deep imprints in the soft grass and hitting the ground hard enough to roll away.

In seconds the grass was gone, buried under a mound of rubble several feet thick and hundreds of yards long. There were no trees left to cast shadows on the broken stones; there was no building left to cast an ancient pool of velvet coolness into the woods. With a final shuddering groan, the tower collapsed. A huge cloud of dust billowed up from where it had hit the sun-scorched ground, and both mages took a hasty step back and coughed up the cloying grit.

"Dear Goddess!" A voice shouted from behind them. "Are you okay?"

"Fine!" Numair shouted back, and then coughed as he inhaled a lungful of swirling dust. Daine pressed her sleeve to her own mouth and turned around, squinting in the dusty air to see who had shouted. It was neither of the children. A shadow ran closer, and then skidded to a halt in front of them and coughed out its own mouthful of dirt.

"We saw the tower moving and we… we…" he doubled over, gasping for breath, and then waved away the canteen of water Numair offered him. "No – no, I'll be fine, I just…" he started hacking up dust again.

"Hello, Daniel." Numair said quietly. "It's good to see you again."

The man froze, stared at the two dust-streaked strangers, and his face turned an unusual shade of red.

"You. It's _you."_ He said weakly, and sat down heavily in the dust. Shaking his head, he smiled humourlessly at the broken stones beneath his feet and then looked back up at Numair with a wry twist to his mouth. "You got anything stronger than water, sir? I think I might need it."


End file.
